


Clock

by truth_renowned



Series: One-Word Prompts [39]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: Daniel has way too much nervous energy, and for good reason. Inspired by the prompt 'clock'.





	Clock

Daniel watched the clock, willing the minute hand to move faster. Hell, he wanted _all_ of the hands to move faster. Each click of the second hand sounded like thunder in his head.

Peggy had been in there for more than three hours. How long could this possibly take? He’d thought an hour at the most and she’d be done.

He wasn’t cut out for this father-to-be stuff.

He and the other men in the closet-size waiting room took their turns pacing; there were five men and not enough room for all of them to pace at once. Each man took about fifteen minutes, give or take. They watched each other and the clock, not out of interest but out of frustration and pent-up energy. 

They’d all introduced themselves: Frank, Samuel, Tom, Bruce and, of course, Daniel. Daniel had been there the longest, followed by Frank, then Bruce. Samuel and Tom had been there under an hour. Very few words were exchanged other than first names. No last names were voiced because none were needed. They knew they wouldn’t see each other again. 

But that didn’t keep Daniel from discovering something about each man. Bruce was a smoker; every time he paced by, nicotine wafted from his clothes. Tom was a smoker as well, but the acrid, woody scent was due to cigars. Frank had a slight limp, though not due to a prosthetic, Daniel was sure, and he had a noisy habit of clearing his throat every few minutes. And Samuel’s bright red nose, light skin around his eyes and ruddy complexion was that of man who worked outdoors, sunglasses his only protection from the sun. Why Daniel had this information, he didn’t know, but what else was he supposed to do with his time?

Without warning, the waiting room door pushed open and a nurse poked her head in. “Mr. Anderson?”

Daniel looked at the other men, seeing a hopeful smile and raised eyebrows on Bruce’s face.

“Mr. Anderson,” the nurse continued, “you have a healthy baby girl. You can see your wife now.”

Bruce let out a dramatic sigh, and the four men shook his hand or patted him on the back as he walked to the door.

A few seconds of smiles all around, and then the pacing commenced. It was Daniel’s turn but since his leg was throbbing, he motioned to Samuel to take his place. Between the ticking clock and the metronomic click of Samuel’s shoes on the linoleum, a headache was added to Daniel’s list of pain. 

And frustration.

And... Jesus, this had to be the longest wait of his life.

The door opened again, and Daniel heard a collective gasp between the men.

“Mr. Sousa?” the nurse asked.

Daniel rose from his seat faster than he should have, wavering until he got his crutch steadied.

“Yes,” he croaked out.

The nurse smiled. “You can see your wife now. And your baby boy.”

The other three men did as they had with Bruce, claps to the back and hand shakes. None of it registered with Daniel. It didn’t register when he walked toward the door and out of the room, following the nurse down one hall, then another, and yet another until they got to a patient room. It didn’t register when the nurse pushed open the door.

The first thought he had since the waiting room was when he saw Peggy, a tiny bundle of blue blanket cradled in her arms. He thought about how much he loved her. And how beautiful she was, despite her tired smile and lidded eyes and sweat-soaked hair.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Come meet your son.”

His son. _Their_ son.

His second thought was that the wait was over. He was no longer a father-to-be. 

He was a bona fide father.


End file.
